


Castiel's Stretch

by Strings (fangirlgeekout)



Series: Amateur Production [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Asexual Relationship, Bondage, Fetish, Multi, TWP - Tickles Without Plot, Tickling, Ticklish Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3088328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlgeekout/pseuds/Strings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Sam, Dean, & Cas produce tickling videos and post them online. Their small but dedicated following adores them, with their quality production value and the lack of cheesy setups or bad scripted dialogue. Plus, the three of them just seem so charming, and are always so sweet with each other. The comments on their videos are constantly full of threats about vomiting rainbows everywhere, and the occasional disappointed viewer who bemoans the absence of explicit content between the self-proclaimed asexual triad.</p>
<p>In this installment, Cas gets worked over by both Sam & Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Castiel's Stretch

**Author's Note:**

> I've read several AUs in which characters get caught up in fetish content production, and several more where they voluntarily do their own cam work, so I wanted to combine those ideas. To maximize the safe(ish)-for-work fluff, this evolved from one of my favorite imagined dynamics - an asexual Wincestiel relationship.
> 
> Originally posted Dec 2014 on [Tumblr](http://wordstrings.tumblr.com/post/105666809650/amateur-production-castiels-stretch).

The scene is simple, as it usually is. Castiel is square in the center of the frame, clad only in a pair of boxer briefs. (Orange, this time. It’s rare to see him in a basic dark pair like Sam or Dean usually sport when they play the role of ‘lee.) His arms are stretched out at his sides, wrists bound with straps that disappear out of the camera’s view, and his head tips forward as he bites at his lip and grins.

Standing behind him are the other two members of the familiar trio. They’ve each claimed a side, Dean at his right shoulder and Sam at his left, and neither man’s face is fully visible at the moment because they’re buried in the curves of Castiel’s neck. Cas squirms from side to side, trying to pull his shoulders up, but his taut arms don’t allow it. Sam’s hair sways where it dangles over Castiel’s collarbone, which probably only adds another layer of sensation to whatever Sam’s mouth is doing at the sensitive spot he’s found and apparently latched onto. Dean kisses up the opposite side of Castiel’s neck, never lingering too long in one place, his lips and nose brushing teasingly at the dark curls behind Castiel’s ear. Cas giggles quietly and shifts on his feet. There’s a barely audible  _clink_  as the spreader bar between Castiel’s ankles tugs at the clip that tethers it in place on the floor.

Sam and Dean continue to warm him up for a few moments more. Their palms cup both sides of Castiel’s chest, and one hand – it’s not immediately clear whose – runs up through his dark hair. When the fingers close and tug back to bare Castiel’s throat, it’s revealed to be Sam’s as the top of his head comes further around to get at the newly exposed area. Cas snorts.

There must be some sort of unspoken signal between the two ‘lers, because their hands simultaneously slide back from their benign places at Castiel’s chest and begin tickling just below his outstretched arms. Cas gasps audibly, then dissolves into giggles. Sam’s fist in his hair still keeps his head pulled back, and his throat bobs as he wriggles against the cuffs at his wrists and the bodies at his back.

Dean’s eyes glance up to catch the camera, and he flashes a quick grin against the crook of Castiel’s neck before his hand trails down Cas’ right side. His fingers skitter forward in what looks like a devastating spidery tickle along the bottom of Castiel’s ribs, and apparently it is, because Castiel jerks and shrieks, twisting his torso but failing to escape Dean’s attack. 

Sam nibbles out along the top of Castiel’s shoulder as he releases the hold on his hair. He dodges back to avoid how Cas immediately wrenches his head to the side in a futile attempt to block out Sam’s access, and Sam chuckles, upping the pace of the tickle in Castiel’s underarm on that side.

Castiel’s upper body is in constant motion, wiggling away from one ticklish sensation only to further expose himself to another. Not like he isn’t entirely exposed anyway, with how his arms remain tethered firmly away from his sides and he can’t move his feet more than a few inches back and forth where the spreader bar attaches to the ring installed in the floor. His giggles spill out steadily, pitching up whenever his attackers pass over a particularly sensitive spot. Every once in a while, the camera catches a smug flash of Sam’s or Dean’s eyes, as if they’re conspiring with the viewers to tickle Castiel out of his poor analytical mind.

Dean ducks under Cas’ arm, still tickling all along his ribs as he pivots around. Sam sidesteps smoothly to fill the vacated space, and centers himself behind Castiel to take over both armpits as Cas yelps and arches, yanking against his bonds. Dean steps in front of him, his back to the camera, and traces single-fingered ovals at Castiel’s sides for a moment as he leans in. He says something inaudible, and Cas keeps his chin ducked but grins up at him through squinted lashes. Dean pecks a quick kiss to the corner of his laughing mouth, then crouches down.

Cas immediately starts struggling harder. He still can’t actually get very far, but even his limited movement suddenly gets reduced by Sam pressing a thigh in behind him. Castiel’s hips are forced forward, removing what little slack he has and stretching his front in a convex curve. A cry of protest quickly gets swallowed by a squeal of laughter as Dean sets to work in his new position.

Dean mouths eagerly at one of Castiel’s bare thighs while his fingertips skitter along Cas’ waist just above the line of his boxer briefs. Castiel almost headbutts Sam in the nose when he throws his head back, shrieking hysterically. Sam just presses in closer, hooking his chin over Cas’ shoulder so he can watch Dean’s ministrations with a grin of his own. His hands wander down from Castiel’s underarms to circle firm fingertips into his taut ribcage.

Dean’s hands track down over the bright fabric of Castiel’s boxers, scrabbling as they go. Cas wails when they linger for a few unbearable seconds at the juncture of his hip and thigh, then cackles uncontrollably when they ruthlessly tickle his parted inner thighs. Sam spiders at both sides of his stomach, then squiggles a fingertip in his belly button just as Dean nips at one of his knees. Castiel’s whole strained body bucks with a desperate screech.

Sam glances up, and Dean looks over his shoulder, the both of them smirking out at whoever’s watching as Castiel falls to hysterical pieces under their hands.


End file.
